Dark Enough to See the Stars
by SparklingLetters
Summary: Stable Queen AU, post3x09 with a twist. Against all odds, Daniel returns to life and is reunited with Regina. What appears to be their long-coveted happy ending shortly turns out to be just the beginning, as obstacles surface that neither of them has foreseen. Regina & Henry feels. The story draws from From a Small Seed a Mighty Trunk Shall Grow but works perfectly well on its own.
1. Consequences

_Author's Note: I've been fascinated for quite a while by the question of how, if at all, Regina and Daniel could stand a chance as a couple if he had been restored to life. What with Regina's dark past and Daniel's long absence, I see many obstacles in their way... I finally started writing this in November for NaNoWriMo 2013 and it's still in progress. __The timeline is post-Neverland but Peter Pan never switched bodies with Henry, and there is no New Curse. _I hope this story has some feels and food for thought to offer those of you who, like me, still have a soft spot for Stable Queen after all this time.  


_**Chapter 1**_

_**Consequences**_

Three bouquets of lilies. It had all started with just one. The second one came after that, shortly before the Curse. And a third one now - for the first time. It has only been a few weeks. _How strange_, she muses, _how strange that feels_. It could just as well have been yesterday, or several lifetimes ago.

The massive shape of the crypt looms dark before her. She reminds herself to watch her step on the way - the terrain is tricky as it is, not to mention the stilettos she is wearing, and the gravestones scattered everywhere do not make her job any easier either.

Regina stops at the door of the crypt with her hand on the handle, and takes a deep calming breath. It's a tradition of sorts. It didn't start out like one - it was supposed to be a one-time-only thing. But days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years, and it never became any easier. So she does it every time, every week: the flowers, and the breathing, and the reminiscing.

She pushes the door open with a creak - an unsettling sound, and more so at this early hour. Regina knows the cemetery well and the Mills family crypt better yet. There is nothing to fear, except maybe the dead - the ghosts from her past. These dead, these ghosts, however, are the reason she is here in the first place. Her heels give off a sharp, click-clacking noise that echoes in the domed crypt as she makes her way to the newest coffin.

"Hello, Mother," she says quietly. It feels wrong, somehow. "Mama," she whispers. The flowers leave a thin snaking trace in the fine layer of dust as Regina places them on top of the coffin.

"Hello, Daddy," her voice wavers slightly, and she brushes a spider-web aside before she places the second bouquet on top of the coffin that says _Henry Mills, Beloved Father_. Oh, the times she has stared at those words, listening to the voices in her head argue. _How very hypocritical of you_, one would say, _considering you, and only you, are the one who killed him_. _I never wanted to_, the other voice would retort tearfully, _I loved him..._ Regina shakes her head, as if she were chasing off an annoying insect.

"I'm back," she says loudly, perhaps unnecessarily so, and perhaps it's to hush up the voices in her head. "I know I haven't been here in a while, but I was out of town. Out of this world, to be precise. You see, Henry was in danger, and we went to the rescue." It still astonishes her: heroes and villains, pirates and queens, the saviour and the two idiots - united for a common goal. "Everything is alright now. We are back, all of us, and Henry as well. Neverland is no more." She relishes the thought. The wretched island disappeared form the face of earth, swallowed by the ocean. Pan will never hurt her son again.

She brushes a strand of hair from her face. The coffins rest there unresponsive, cold and lifeless. Her parents, both of them gone, both - though in different ways - killed by herself.

"I didn't want this," she confesses. The matching flowers on the tombs seem somehow out of place. "You would have preferred roses, wouldn't you," she smirks in her mother's direction. Cora can no longer interfere with every aspect of her life, yet Regina resolves to bring two bouquets of lilies next week, and one of red roses. "I'll be back soon," she promises.

The third bouquet seems heavier than the previous two, though she really cannot see why it would be. She needs to get a tighter grip, a two-handed grip, before she reveals the secret staircase and descends to the belly of the chamber. It's cold here, and she feels her skin crawl. The double door looms closer and closer with each step. She could swear she can hear her own heart beating in her throat. Every time.

Every single time it's the same. Her legs threaten to give in under her, and the strangest emotions fight a ferocious battle inside her. The prospect of that door, and what lies beyond, makes her shiver with excitement as well as nerves. Her heart pines for the chamber, yet cries because it has so little to offer to dull the pain. It is a pain she always feels to some degree, but which will flare up at times and burn so hot she half expects her heart to just turn into ashes in her very chest. That pain will come when she enters the door. It always does. But so does a strange elation. She's as close to him there as she can ever be.

The door handles are cool to the touch, yet her palms are sweaty. _There_, her heart sighs, _there, the coffin_. The glass shimmers eerily in the darkness. Regina approaches it with almost religious piety. _It's empty_, she reminds herself. _It's empty, and I'm utterly foolish. But it's all I have left now_. She never talks to Daniel aloud. Not because he isn't really there physically, but because, well, it seems unnecessary - Daniel always understood her better than anyone, and they would often find they could communicate without words. _And now he's gone. I wonder if he can hear me. What if he could? Wouldn't it be nice, if the dead could hear our thoughts? Daniel must know mine by heart by now_. It's always the same. _I miss you_, her heart cries in a desperate fit.

Regina strokes the cold glass, gazes at the faded polstering. The lilies are for Daniel. Daddy would not mind what flowers she brought him as long as she came, but Daniel...Daniel and she had a special floral history, and lilies were simply the best choice for him. She smiles, almost feeling like the young girl she used to be back then, and is entirely baffled by where that emotion comes from. Daniel has that effect on her. Sometimes she returns from the cemetery almost reinvigorated, sometimes devastated. Mostly she ends up devastated by the end of the day at the latest. Yet there is no question at all of breaking the habit. _I must go_, she dispatches a telepathic wave. _I'll be back again - as always. Goodbye, Daniel._

Why does the way out always feel like a cowardly escape? The heels hit the floor sharper and quicker than before, and the air feels chilly and hostile. It only makes matters worse, because tears are all the more prone to welling up in her eyes this way. Her foot is on the first step pf the staircase when she stops abruptly.

Something is wrong, very, very wrong. She can sense it before she even realises it, and even though her brain tries to block it out automatically, her instincts don't lie. Shivering, she turns and lets her gut lead her right towards the chamber of hearts. Her own heart beats in stampede against her ribcage, threatening to break out. _The hearts! I can't hear the hearts!_ She turns a corner and runs the rest of the way.

The darkness is almost complete, just like the silence. _No_, she winces. _This cannot be_. The familiar glow normally emanating from each container is not there. Neither is the soft whisper of hushed heartbeats. Panting slightly, Regina conjures a ball of bright orange fire on her open palm. The flickering flames illuminate the forlorn chamber. Regina wrings a drawer open brusquely with her other hand - empty. Panic builds up in her. She proceeds to open the drawers one by one, and slams each one shut again, all with the same result. The hearts are gone.

* * *

Sunshine pierces his eyes ruthlessly, and he raises his hands to shield his face. What a warm sensation, even this thin sunlight there is. He blinks. _Is this a dream, or is this reality? Where am I? What am I?_ He lets his arms drop again, but keeps his eyes shut for the time being. Gingerly, he presses a hand on his chest where the heart is. The rhythmical beating sends tingles down his spine. _My heart_. It's been so long.

After the shock of the realisation wears off, he finally dares open his eyes. He must still squint, but the outlines of his surroundings come into view now. A wall on the left, and windows, too, through which the sunlight is streaming in; a wall on the right; and is that a door over there? _I'm standing in a corridor_. The place looks vaguely familiar, but there's too little to go on for him to place it.

_I will get there. I have time. I'm alive._

The horses neigh and whinny one over the other. Anita turns the corner, repeating the daily chores under her breath. She pays no attention to the horses' unrest; indeed she does not notice it. She discovers the source of the commotion soon enough, though, as she rounds the corner and almost bumps into a stranger standing in the middle of the corridor, squinting into the sun.

"Excuse me, sir?" she blurts out. "We aren't open yet. How did you get in?" The horses are making a mighty racket, she hears it now. "Stop it. Whoa, whoa. It's alright," she attempts what she hopes is a reassuring tone. She seems to have upset them more instead. She sighs in exasperation. Her mother would have known what to do, but she's gone now, and Anita has never learnt. Horses just aren't her thing.

Not so for the stranger. The man approaches the nearest stall holding a mighty, particularly unruly bay, and raises a hand to the animal's nostrils. A few muttered words, and the horse stops kicking at the planks, and lets the man stroke his neck. The crescendo subsides immediately.

"I don't know how you did that..." she stutters, "but I'm afraid you can't stay anyway. I will have to ask you to come back later."

"I didn't mean to intrude," the stranger replies.

His voice sounds raspy, as if he had forgotten how to use it. Now that she looks at him closer, his ornate white jacket seems out of place, too, and it's definitely seen better times considering the state it is in. Well, it's not so strange after all, considering all the oddities that have been popping up since the curse had been broken and everyone had realised they were fairytale characters, and now have at least two different personalities plus an additional one to try and reconcile the previous two.

"Can I help you?" she asks politely, wondering what to make of the man in once elegant white, now shabby greyish-brown.

"I hope so," he smiles. "I'm looking for Regina. Can you tell me where I'll find her?"

"Regina?" she frowns. "You mean - Mayor Mills?" The man's look goes blank. "The Evil Queen?" she tries anew. Surely he will know one if he doesn't know the other. He remains entirely clueless though.

"That - doesn't sound right," he mumbles, scratching his head. "Well... Are there multiple Reginas around here?"

That is definitely a funny question. "Just the one," she admits. "At least that I know of. Regina Mills."

"Mills? That will be her. Could you point me in her direction?"

"Of course. Everyone knows the way, and you can't miss 108 Mifflin Street - it's the most ostentatious lot in town."

* * *

It's only after the door of 108 Mifflin Street slams shut behind her that Regina slows her pace. Her head swims with thoughts, and has been since she'd left the crypt. If one heart were missing, that would be strange - but all of them? Regina senses danger behind the mystery. What's happening? Where are the hearts? Who could have stolen them, and why? Surely this could mean no good. Regina shouldn't care about those hearts too much; in fact, this should be a relief to her. They would only hinder her on the road to the better self she has embarked upon. Yet this sudden, inexplicable disappearance frightens her.

She crosses to the bar and pours herself a glass of apple cider she made just this morning. The rich taste of apples fills her mouth and, as ever, helps clear her head somewhat. _This is no accident. Someone broke into the vault and stole the hearts. Not that I have any need of them now_. True, but it's at the same time exactly this that scares her so much - what use could the thief possibly have for the hearts? One thing was certain - they were most probably up to no good. It smells of dark magic.

_I need to find out._

But how? Track them down with magic? She uses no magic these days. Not since Neverland anyway - she promised Henry, and frankly, the prospect of taking a break from it was quite alluring after the ordeal of Neverland. There have been tough moments since, of course, but she's proud to say she has resisted the temptation every time. Archie's been of much help, she has to admit. But he can't help in this matter - not with missing enchanted hearts. She can only think of one person in all honesty. Her mouth curls in a disdainful frown. The prospect of talking to this person is not at all appealing.

The cider's gone, she realises after she tries to take another sip and only meets air. Regina sighs and looks up at the clock. She's running late. This unpleasant issue has cost her more time than she can presently afford to lose, and she feels angry for forgetting herself.

Wasting not another minute, she crosses to the kitchen and puts on an apron over her dress. The shoes have become second nature to her, and she's quite unaware of the heels as she begins to move swiftly between the fridge and the counter. Ingredients begin to pile as Regina checks the recipe she's planned for the day to make sure she forgets nothing. Lunch must be flawless today. It's Henry last day at Regina's for the week - he leaves for Emma's tonight.

Regina sighs: the arrangement has been hard on her. Henry seems to be quite happy with shared care, though, and she tries to give him no reason for concern, even though she misses him every minute of every day while gone. Things have been fairly smooth between Emma and her lately, much to their surprise - so much so that Regina has invited Emma and Neal over for lunch today. Can anyone blame her if she wants to outdo herself for the occasion?

As usual, time flies by while she's cooking. Soon the pots are steaming and a delicious smell fills the kitchen. _I never would have thought I'd enjoy this, and look at me now._ She smirks as she leans over one of the pots, fishes for a little stew, and brings the ladle to her lips. _Perfect_. She checks the timer on the stove to make sure there's enough time for her to change before the dessert's ready. At first she wanted to make her special apple pie in a crumb with cinnamon chips and vanilla ice cream, but luckily she realised in time that apples might not be the most fortunate choice for the occasion. She's midway down the stairs, refreshed and changed into a dark blue dress, when the timer rings. The raspberry cake sits on the counter within moments, issuing a mouth-watering smell. It has nothing on apples, but it'll do.

The doorbell rings. Regina throws one last look at the spotlessly clean kitchen and flawlessly dressed table, and giving her hair a toss, hurries to answer the door.

"Hi, Mom!" Henry says cheerfully from between his other parents as soon as the door opens.

"Hello, darling," she smiles at him. " Hello, Emma. Thanks for picking him up from school. Neal," she forces a smile, and curses herself for suddenly feeling tense. "Please come in."

"No problem. It was on the way anyway," Emma shrugs as she takes off her jacket and hangs it by the door.

"Something smells great," Neal offers, and looks around somewhat timidly.

_He doesn't feel any more comfortable about this than me_. Somehow that makes her feel better and worse at the same time.

"Thanks," she nods. "I do hope you're hungry."

"Starving," Emma admits.

"Like a wolf," Henry grins. "What's for lunch, Mom?"

The unusual foursome soon find themselves seated at the dining table eating away happily enough, mostly thanks to Henry's unceasing chatter. He's why they are here, after all - the one thing that binds them all together, the one who makes impossible alliances form and last and even, to some extent, work.

Regina's eyes linger on him fondly. She would have reminded him not to talk with his mouth full once, but this time she doesn't mind so much, and leaves him to talk animatedly, waving his fork around. The threat of losing him still lives on in her heart, and it's made her reconsider more aspects of her life than anyone probably suspects - including the unrelenting strictness with which she used to enforce rules. She feels she might have overdone it at hindsight. Henry's such a precious child, and surely he can get away with a thing or two now and then, without her becoming too lax. It's hard to find the middle ground, but she's trying.

"Mom? Have you been listening?"

"Oh…sorry, sweetheart," Regina says overcome with guilt. "I'm afraid my mind wandered a little. Please go on, I'm listening now."

"That's ok," he says casually, and plunges into it once again.

Regina meets Emma's gaze, and the blonde grins at her. _You know our son_, she seems to be saying. Regina returns a thin smile.

_Our_ son. When did this even happen? It was in Neverland, of course. Their shared plight somehow formed a bond between them. The incessant bickering about whose son Henry was came to an end when forced to face an outside threat. _My son_ became _our son_, and they didn't even realise at the time. Regina still feels a sting of bitterness sometimes - he used to be hers only, and now she suddenly has to share. Yet she must admit there is also a lot of comfort in the new alliance. Emma no longer seems like a threat. Henry still wants her, Regina, in his life, no less than he wants his birth-mother, and that makes Regina happy. It could have been worse. Her stomach turns at the memory - how he told her once he never wanted to see her again, how he preferred Emma's company to hers, and how desperate Regina was to prove her love and worthiness to him. The last thing is still true, but it's different now. She feels grateful.

Silverware clatters on empty china plates.

"This was delicious," Neal rushes to say. "A real masterpiece."

"Thanks, Regina, it was great." Emma says with much less pomp, and equally more spontaneity.

"Yeah, Mom. Thanks," Henry chimes in.

"Let me help with dessert," Neal suggests hastily.

"There's nothing to help with, dear." That last word slips out out of old habit, and she bites her tongue, yet cannot suppress a little smirk all the same. "It's all done." And she moves to the counter to cut the cake.

"You…you haven't made apples, have you?" Henry asks anxiously, suddenly worried.

Regina exhales. _Thank goodness I remembered_. She turns around with the cutting knife in hand.

"Raspberries," she smiles at him. "Raspberries are fine, right?"

"Sure. Raspberries are great." Emma nods approvingly.

_She knows_, Regina realises with a jolt of panic. _She knows how hard this is for me_. And she's not sure whether to feel annoyed or appreciative.

She cuts four large slices and sets a plate in front of each of them. "Ice cream?" she offers.

"Me!" Henry calls and shuffles in his chair.

"And me," Emma echoes.

"That'll be all of us," Neal adds.

Regina dishes a scoop of ice cream onto Emma's plate, and one onto Neal's. She hesitates for a moment over Henry's, though.

"Are you sure this won't be too much sugar before bed, Henry?" Is this too much? Too strict? Too lenient? Sometimes these days she just cannot tell what the right amount of parental authority is with him, and she finds this incredibly frustrating.

He gives her a slightly confused look. "I'll be alright, Mom," he says earnestly. "Just a small portion, ok?"

Regina nods. Perhaps this is alright after all. It amazes her sometimes how perceptive and smart her son is - he seems to have gauged her right once again.

She offers them coffee after dessert, and Neal accepts. _He's trying to be pleasant_, she thinks, _he'd probably accept anything else with just the same gusto. Well, it's not a crime. In fact, I should probably appreciate him trying._ Emma refuses the coffee and asks for cider instead. Henry only has soda - perhaps to put her at ease after the sugar rush of the dessert.

Henry drains his cup first and stands up.

"Guys, I'll go upstairs and pack my stuff. Be right back," he calls from halfway up the stairs.

Regina's heart sinks. Emma's looking at her, and probably sees right through the brave face she has put on. She sighs into her cup.

"You wanna pick him up at school one of the afternoons? Think of it as a payback for today." Regina surveys her. This time she thinks she's the one seeing right through Emma. They do this, of course - neither of them ever goes the entire week without spending some time with Henry.

All she says is: "I wouldn't dream of leaving a debt unpaid."

Emma smirks. "Great. Call me when you know which day. Now, if you could show me where the bathroom is?"

With Henry upstairs and Emma gone, too, Regina and Neal find themselves alone in the living room. She doesn't mind the silence much, but she can tell he's struggling for something to say. Suppressing a smirk successfully, she merely raises and eyebrow. Rumplestiltskin's son speechless in her presence would have been a delight to the Evil Queen. But is she not supposed to be working on distancing herself from the Queen? Reluctantly, she comes to Neal's rescue.

"I hear you have a new job. Is it treating you well?"

"Yes, I do," he blurts, obviously glad of the ice-breaker. "Pretty well, I would say, although the economy seems to work in strange ways here in Storybrooke. It'll take some getting used to."

"Well, good luck to you."

"Thanks."

He's not much for conversation, she thinks. Then again, perhaps no talk is better than empty talk, although of course society rarely thinks so. _I used to think so_, she remembers, _when I was young. The court taught me otherwise: small talk is everything_.

"So, what have you been up to?"

Regina looks at him curiously. What is it that he wants to hear exactly? Perhaps Neal realises the question is way too personal and informal for their level of acquaintance, and tries to improve things by adding: "Workwise?"

Well, this sure doesn't help things much.

"Well, technically I have been unemployed ever since the citizens of Storybrooke had decided I was unfit for Mayorship." Hopefully she managed to make it not sound too sarcastic.

Oops. "Of course. Sorry. Well, that leaves you with some free time, doesn't it?"

"I have rather a lot of time on my hands, yes. I'm sure I will continue to find activities to fill that time with in the future." And then some, she thinks. Take today, for instance: waking up early to another nightmare; getting Henry ready for school was the brightest part; then paying a visit to her beloved dead; and the revelation at the chamber of hearts. _Those hearts…who on earth could have taken them?_

"I didn't miss anything, did I?" Emma's return is a relief. Neal has just finished his coffee, so the situation was just about to turn critical with him having nothing to sip on and therefore no viable excuse for lack of conversation. Regina looks up at her thoughtfully, and before she can stop herself, the question is out: "Have there been any reports of thefts or private property violation lately?"

Emma looks baffled at the question. Neal looks genuinely interested and unforced for the first time. After a moment's consideration, Emma shakes her head.

"None that I know of. Have you heard something?"

"No, I haven't…" she hesitates, wondering how much to share. "Someone's been inside my crypt that wasn't supposed to be, that's all."

The forced dismissal doesn't fool the sheriff.

"Did they take anything? Was there vandalism? Regina, you should make a full report."

Regina sighs. "I'm sure we're glad you're taking this job seriously, but this is no big deal. I assure you I will make a full report should the situation call for it."

Emma gives her another piercing look, but Regina is unrelenting.

"Alright, Regina," she sighs. "You know where to find me."

"Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll go check on Henry. He's been up there for quite some time now."

Regina rises and heads for the stairs, leaving Emma and Neal behind.

Step by step, the hearts all but dissolve in her mind, and are replaced by a single subject: Henry.

Why is it always so hard to see him go? Every week it's the same, though she's been telling herself it will get better in time. It has not. It's no easier tonight than it was the very first time. Well, perhaps just a tiny little bit. She knows she can see him anytime she wants during the week, and neither Henry nor Emma will take issue. It goes the other way round as well. It's small comfort compared to having him live with her all the time, but it's comfort nonetheless.

"Mom?" she hears him call from his room at the sound of her footsteps. "Have you seen my red scarf?"

"The one with the yellow stripes?" she asks at the door.

"Yeah," he nods and continues rummaging in his wardrobe. Regina shakes her head with a smile.

"Allow me," she makes her way to him. It takes her exactly zero seconds to locate the right drawer, and next thing he knows she's pulling out the scarf in question. "Here it is."

"Thanks, Mom, you're the best. I'll clean this mess next week, I promise." He shrugs apologetically.

She doesn't really hear the second part, though, because she's still stuck on the important words. _You're the best_. It makes her irrationally happy. She smiles and strokes his hair. She wants to tell him she doesn't care about the mess one bit at the moment. _That's not very responsible parenting,_ an annoying little voice peeps up in her head. Right.

"Alright, Henry. Next week. I'll help if you want."

She crosses to his bed and surveys the pile of clothes he's about to cram into his backpack. She'd have preferred a suitcase, but Henry said it looks ridiculous - he can always come back if he needs more stuff, he said, and it's not as if he were moving out. That gave her some comfort as well, knowing most of his things are still at her place. Without ever being aware of it, she begins to fold the individual items of clothing neatly.

"Mom, I can do that," Henry protests. "I have started, see?"

Regina looks at a small pile. It's tidy enough compared to the rest, but she detects imperfections all the same - he is after all a twelve-year-old boy.

"What, isn't it right?"

Regina gives herself a mental shake. _I'm turning into my mother!_ Cora would have her redo it a thousand times before she got it perfectly right, and Regina would be in tears by the end. _I am not my mother._

"No, Henry, it's fine. I'm sorry. You can finish. Is there anything I can do?"

"You can just stay here and we'll talk."

So Regina makes a little space on the edge of the bed and sits down. She drinks in her son's appearance, as if she were trying to etch every detail deep into her mind to feast on while the real him is away. Meanwhile, Henry finishes folding the clothes and stuffs them all into the backpack.

"Done," he says with satisfaction. He looks up at her and frowns a little. "Mom." She catches his eye, realising she has wandered off again. The concern on his face tells her some of her thoughts must have shown on her face. "Don't be sad. I'll be back soon."

"I'm alright," she comes ready with the lie. A stab of guilt pinches at her. There's been enough lying to him in the past, and she would rather not do any more of it, but this is a special case - she does not want to burden him with the truth, and for what? He deserves to be happy, and if having two families sharing his life will make him so, how could she deny him that, or make him feel bad for her? "Really, Henry, I don't want you to worry about me, alright? Have a good time with Emma. I will come pick you up one of the schooldays, it's settled. We can go to the park if you want."

He's giving her that quizzical look she knows and loves so much. She can tell he's weighing her words carefully. She knows deep down he probably senses more of her discomfort than she'd like him to. He moves swiftly, and before she can react, he has flung his arms around her and mutters:

"I love you, Mom."


	2. Journeys Start in Lovers Meeting

_Author's Note: A later update I know, but this story is proving harder to write, and I want to make sure it works out right, so please bear with me if I take longer between chapters. On the bright side: Regina and Daniel meet in this one, so expect some serious feels! Enjoy, and thanks for your feedback!_

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Journeys Start in Lovers Meeting**_

It's the snicker of a horse that tells him where he is even before his eyes have time to adjust. And then he knows - not only that he is in a stable, but also which stable specifically. The latter is more a result of his gut feeling at this point rather than anything else.

He was shielding his eyes form the sun the last time he was here, too, much like he is now. It had less to do with the sun then and more with his unnatural condition. Having a stranger's heart beat in your chest instead of your own will do that to you, it seems. Not that he has much experience in the area, but it suffices him for half a dozen lifetimes. _I only have the one._

This is hard for him to believe. He feels reborn, returned from a kind of death he never anticipated and could not very well account for.

It doesn't matter now. Something else does - some_one_.

This is the place - this very corridor. He runs a hand along the peeling wood wall. It was outside one of these stalls - perhaps this one?

The memory is slightly hazy and chaotic, like a dreamscape, but he remembers her with perfect clarity: her dark hair, the glimmer of her eyes, her smile. But above all he remembers the expression on her face - a mask of pure hope at the prospect of happiness. He wiped that off soon after, not because he wanted to, but because he had little power over his actions then. Something was pushing his buttons from deep down in his chest, and it was all he could do to snatch a few moments of control to connect with her as his own self.

_I'm back now. This time it's me, through and through_.

The horses are upset. _Is it me?_ They were the same that time, too. Perhaps they can feel when magic's in the air. If so, they clearly let their dislike of it show.

He registers the sound of footsteps around the corner, and braces himself for the encounter.

The woman tugs at her skirt nervously at every step and recites something under her breath. _Perhaps a spell_, his crazed mind throws at him. She's so preoccupied she hardly notices him until she very nearly bumps right into him. The racket the horses are making seems to frustrate her, so Daniel approaches the impressive bay at the nearby stall - he senses a leader, and knows if this sturdy one can be calmed, the others might easily follow. Horses are no different now than they were before, he's content to find. A few well-delivered words and the right body language do miracles. The woman in the tight skirt and loose blouse seems to consider it one, at least. It's a good thing she's there - he might as well ask her help.

Despite her puzzlement, she's obliging enough. The response he gets, however, baffles him. Perhaps this place is different from the one he knew: the build of the stables and the style of clothing suggest so. Yet what her words imply is nothing short of absurd. He's not sure what a Mayor is; he can quite easily imagine her as Queen, though - even though it makes him wonder, too, seeing as Regina was not at all partial to the idea of becoming one.

But Regina - evil? That's a concept he doesn't grasp, and he decides it must be some kind of misunderstanding. Mills, that sounds more like her, if she were to go by two names - is that the norm in these parts? His brain races through question after question. Luckily, he manages to get the answer to the most important one.

Everyone knows the way to Regina's house, if he's to believe the woman's words. That's good, since he only understands about half of the directions the woman gives him, and patiently repeats with the same unchanging puzzled expression, until he thanks her and resolves to just ask whomever should be around when he gets stuck.

He pats the now calm, alert bay once. The feel of the animal's strong muscled neck and the touch of his muzzle make him feel at home immediately. He might be a stranger in this world, but some things never change. That makes him smile. He sets out and soon leaves the stables behind.

_I'm coming, Regina_.

The sun has risen considerably in the sky when Daniel reaches the end of the gravel road leading from the stables and finds himself at the edge of the town itself.

So far, what he's seen has been fairly familiar to him: the sky, the trees, the birds chirping, and the road beneath his feet. All of this changes now: the town is like nothing he's ever seen before. Magic comes to mind - for what else could this be? He'd heard of other worlds while still in Fairytale Land, of course, and he believes he might have experienced several since then, but he has attributed that to his strange state of being. This seems...well, real.

A whooshing sound rushes past him, and a sharp horn blows. He jumps aside on instinct, just barely out of the way of a passing metal monster. Another one passes by, and another one. He walks on, keeping to the side of the road, watching out for more. The beasts seem to be about their own business at least, so he should be fine as long as he avoids them.

As he moves deeper into the strange jungle of shapes and sounds, people start emerging. Some of them walk, like himself; some ride strange two-wheeled vehicles. He notices the walkers stick to the elevated sides of the road, and follows - a clever thing to do. A metal monster rests along the pavement, sleeping. Another one comes to life just as he watches. Upon closer look, though, he spots a person sitting inside, apparently steering the thing towards the road. Perhaps they are no monsters after all, although they surely resemble ones. Perhaps they are just the equivalent of carriages in this strange land. They lack horses to pull them, of course, but perhaps some other kind of power is at work.

Daniel reaches a landmark the woman in the stable pointed out, and realises he doesn't know which way to go from there. It was one of the words he didn't understand and cannot remember either. Without much ado, he stops the next passer-by and asks for Mifflin Street. The elderly man points and explains. He thanks him and takes the suggested way, until he gets lost again. He stops another person, walks, gets stuck, and repeats the process with someone else. Thankfully, everyone's willing and helpful.

Midday finds him at a park. Tired of dodging passers-by and metal monsters - he calls them that in his head for lack of a better expression, even though he is fairly certain now they are merely a means of transportation - and craving some green in the midst of all the grey, he fights the urge to press on without pause, and makes towards the heart of the park. The soft rush and tinkle of water leads him to a fountain surrounded by a handful of benches. He sits on one sheltered by a young maple tree, and stretches his legs. The noise of the town subsides here, and nature's sounds come to the fore. He feels more at peace, and takes the time to rest his legs a little and clear his head.

This new world could prove a challenge. Challenge doesn't worry him though. Yet he senses something nagging at his mind, and wonders if he's been suppressing it all this time on purpose. It still refuses to come to the surface. All he can presently think of is the vision of being reunited with his true love after all this time.

After all this time…

Here it comes again, that nagging sensation. Rather than dismissing it again, he decides to confront it. What is it that's worrying him? Not the unfamiliar world. He looks around. Only one of the other benches is occupied - by an elderly couple sharing a laugh and a bag of some peculiar kind of snack.

_Then love again_. Those were his last words to her. Has she lived by them? Has she taken his advice, which he had meant in all honesty?

_All I wish for is for her to be happy. Yet now here I am, returning into her life after what we both believed was the end, and I expect her to welcome me with open arms._ What if she's moved on? It's the healthy thing to do, after all. If she's let love into her life and found someone else - just the thought of it kills him inside, but he must face it - then there is no place for him in her life anymore. Is he even right to intrude? He knows his….death…must have been hard for her to bear, he saw it in her face that time in the stables. Moving on would have taken a great deal, and who is he to destroy all that she might have built? As much as he wanted to be part of her happiness, he could not possibly steal her peace if she has already found it without him.

Before he set foot in the park, 108 Mifflin Street could not be close enough. Now, however, a part of him wishes to put twice the distance between himself and her.

_But what if she hasn't moved on? What if she still loves me?_ It's selfish of him to wish so… Yet he cannot help it. _I need to know. I just need to know. Only perhaps I should find out in some other way before I knock on that door._ But how?

He looks around for a clue. He knows no one in this place. The idea of inquiring about Regina's private life from complete strangers is unthinkable. She does seem to be well-known, and people might actually have answers, but that changes nothing about the utter revulsion he feels at even the though of it. He sighs.

Mifflin Street it is. Perhaps he'll figure something out on the way. And if not, he can still change his mind and never knock on that door. Will he have the strength to walk away so close to the yearned for destination, though?

His legs seem to have a mind of their own, and that mind tells them to walk out of the park, to walk faster than before, and address strangers with an urgency that makes heads turn. At this point, none of that concerns him. On he walks.

* * *

He knows he's close when the clock tower comes into view. Without ever making the conscious decision to do so, he slows his pace. Yet soon enough, he finds himself standing beneath the tower, looking up at the large hands measuring the passage of time relentlessly. Much has passed since last time.

Is he doing the right thing? What else is there left? No answer comes; perhaps he doesn't wish for one either. He turns his back on the tower and stands facing a wide street of freshly manicured lawns and neat rows of houses.

This must be it: Mifflin Street.

His heart beats faster as he sets out. His steps are measured, and his breathing slightly more laborious with each step. The houses on the right are numbered with odd numbers; the ones on the left with even. He stays on the right.

Houses have changed, he tells himself, trying to occupy his mind while his heart is beginning to race. He sees no palace, unless of course the clock tower is part of one, which didn't seem to be the case. There are no towers reaching high on either side of the street.

97 Mifflin Street, a plate on an iron gate reads. Almost there. He stops shortly, inhales, and exhales with a sigh. Calming breaths seem viciously unhelpful. His legs refuse to move and crave to run at the same time. He makes them keep up a steady pace.

103 Mifflin Street. He walks on looking straight ahead, intent on not stealing a glance sideways.

105 Mifflin Street. He makes a nervous fist and realises his palms are all sweaty.

107 Mifflin Street. He walks past the gate, and halfway to the next. There he stops.

_This is it. When I turn and look to the left, the house I will see will be hers._

Somehow the way here seems like nothing compared to this one half-turn he now has to make.

_It's just a house._

_Liar_.

With a single deep breath, he turns.

Not for a moment does he doubt this is the place. The most ostentatious lot in town, he's been told. He can easily believe that. The fence is wrought iron, as is the gate, all but invisible behind the green hedge. White and elegant, it's the closest to a palace he's seen in this town so far. The columns, the porch, the balcony, the tall windows allowing for a rich flow of light - they lend the house a slender, yet stable, dependable look. Fitting. Then again, not so much. He can't quite make up his mind. The path bordered by a smaller green hedge is welcoming and imposing at the same time. _Come along_, it seems to call; _but beware_, it seems to whisper.

And he has no idea what to do.

Slowly, he crosses to the other side of the street, and grasps the cold iron of the gate. There are flowers in the large pots along the porch, and each side of the entrance. This brings a smile on his face. He's always been fond of flowers, and the sea of green surrounding this house makes his heart rejoice. There's a garden at the back, he can tell by the treetops sticking up to the sky further off. Is there an apple there somewhere?

The gate gives in to the unwitting pressure of his arms, and opens noiselessly. He takes the hint, and enters. The path has stopped whispering warnings now. All it says is _come along_ now, and come along he does. With his eyes fixed on the silver number 108, he reaches the porch in what seems like an entire century or a single heartbeat. He hears voices from inside, and the sound of keys ringing. Instinctively, he jumps aside and stops behind the corner, concealed by a shrub.

The door opens, and out comes a man carrying a plate of cake. His heart tightens in his chest.

Then, a blonde woman in a red jacket follows. The man puts an arm around her shoulder, and they stand beside the open door, waiting. He lets out a heavy breath of relief.

A bout of excitement overcomes him immediately - what if the next person to come out is her?

For a good while, no one appears. Then, a boy in his early teens pokes his head out of the door and disappears again, only to reappear a moment later. The boy looks oddly familiar, but he cannot place him at the moment. The boy waves at someone inside the house and the three turn to leave. Only after a couple of steps, the three turn their heads in answer to a call that makes him jump.

He'd recognise that voice in a million.

And then, his heart threatens to burst with emotion. He watches, utterly enraptured, as she hurries out of the door, meets the boy halfway, and places a red-and-yellow scarf around his neck. He's too far to understand any of the conversation, but his heart melts when she leans to hug the boy. Even from afar, she's clearly hesitant to let go. The boy returns the hug, and makes no attempt to disentangle himself from it, until eventually she does let go. Another wave, and the three are gone.

She gazes after them long after the buzz of a metal monster dies out - probably the yellow one he has seen standing empty nearby.

He swallows as something seems to catch in his throat. She's as beautiful as ever, and his entire being is crying at the sight, and the closeness of her. He's rooted to the spot, and remains so, hardly breathing, until she finally turns on her heel and returns to the house, closing the door behind her.

He just stands there, staring at the spot she vacated just a moment ago. He runs a hand through his hair.

_I'm doomed._

His suspicion has just been confirmed - he will never be able to leave now without seeing her again, and talking to her. _I must think this through_, he berates himself and, with immense effort, turns and walks in the opposite direction, towards the garden.

The calmness of the greenery engulfs him, and cradles his over-strained heart back into some degree of calmness. _What do I do now? Do I go to her? Do I wait? Do I ask questions first? But whom? I can't just hide here and spy on her to find those answers._ His cheeks redden with shame - spying on her has definitely not been his intention.

And then he finds himself almost walking right into the trunk of an apple tree. He gasps. The fruit is red as blood, and sweet to the taste, he can tell just by looking at it. A smile spreads across his face.

This means something. Of all the things he has seen and heard and pondered today, this is what makes most sense to him. He strokes the earthy brown bark lovingly. From a small seed, a mighty trunk has grown. It has taken a while, and required patience and loving care, but in the end the fruit it bears is worth it all. His mind takes him back to a day long in the past, a day on which a boy and a girl planted a tiny tree together. This might not be that tree, but the girl and the boy are both there now, brought together against all odds after a long time apart.

Perhaps this is the sign he needed.

With a lighter heart, he turns and sets off back where he came from. The once-boy has made his decision, and the rest is up to the once-girl. He can only hope it will be a favourable one. With his own heartbeat being the only sound in his ears, he walks on, through the garden, onto the porch, and stops in front of the door.

_108_, it says, as if a random number could possibly capture what lies inside. This door holds the key to his future and his happiness, which he hopes is one with hers.

With his arm raised, he holds his breath and knocks.

* * *

With Henry, Emma and Neal gone, Regina finds the house strangely quiet. Their leaving was partially a relief, yet she knows she will spend the evening brooding, trying to occupy herself, so as not to give in to feelings of dejection and sadness.

It's the same every time he leaves for the week. The middle part of the week tends to improve a little, and the last day or two become almost unbearable again, but she can already look forward to him again, which makes it so much better than the wretched first day. She even goes as far as to consider doing the dishes by hand instead of the dishwasher just to give herself something to do. _I'm being stupid_. _Surely I can do something more useful with my time_. By the time she has stacked the dishes into the dishwasher, her mind has come up with a solution.

Regina pulls an armchair close to the fireplace, strikes a match, and lights a fire. It will be a while before there's a proper one, but she knows she'll be grateful for it later. She's found she's somehow more prone to feeling cold when Henry's not there. Perhaps she has too much time to spend dwelling on herself. Or perhaps there's a whole different reason. She watches the flames flicker to life and when she's certain they're not going to die out, she reaches for the book. She freezes halfway there. Is this really a good idea?

The book may contain answers to her questions. It might tell her something about those wretched hearts and what use they might be put to besides the ones she can think about. It's perfectly logical to search there.

What if she cannot stop there, however? Once she takes the book off the shelf, it will be all the more difficult to put it back again. She's found it easier to avoid such temptations altogether.

Henry would disapprove. Regina feels a rush of shame. She's sworn to never let him down again.

But what if the thief means harm? This could be a threat for Henry as well. She's not willing to take that risk; better to risk disappointing him with her lack of self-control than to risk losing him to some evil force.

'_You can control these impulses, Regina,'_ Archie's words from one of their past sessions come back to her. _'You have the strength, you just need to find it in you.'_

_Well, we shall see_. It's time to put it to the test. She reaches for the book again without a moment's hesitation, and lifts it off the shelf.

There's a knock on the door.

Regina glanced at the clock. Evening has crept on Storybrooke. It's been a while since Henry left, so she figures it's not them coming back to pick up another forgotten item. She's expecting no other visitors, and is in no mood for any. For a moment, she considers ignoring the knock altogether. But the lights are on, and whoever the uncalled for visitor is, they will have seen and know she's at home. They wouldn't probably take a hint, whoever they are, and the prospect of repeated knocks is enough to fuel her annoyance. It'll be best to handle this as quickly as possible, and then enjoy some peace and quiet and plunge into research. She slides the book back on the shelf and strides to the door. After checking her appearance in the mirror in passing out of sheer habit, she throws the door open with extraordinary vigour.

It' grown dark outside, and the man is hard to make out.

Her heart knows, though. It knows at once, and skips a beat, and another, and then threatens to burst out of her chest like a panicked bird. Her knees turn to water, and it's all she can do to hold herself up, leaning heavily on the door frame. Shock gives way to incredulity, and within a split second, they are both overshadowed by utter happiness. She cannot control it, indeed she doesn't even realise it's happening: her eyes widen and sparkle with new hope, and a radiant smile lights up her face - a mask of pure joy, and hope, oh so much hope.

"D- Daniel?" she whispers noiselessly.

He nods, apparently speechless himself, and his smile grows wider.

_That face, that precious face smiling right at me - how can this be?_

A cold fist grips her heart in flight and pulls it back down to the ground ruthlessly. She takes a step backwards.

"Who are you, and what trick is this?" All the radiance is gone, and her features are hard and cruel; so different from the previous expression that it's hard to imagine the two are really the same person.

"Regina, it's me," he replies cautiously, leaning forward so she can make him out in the dark.

"No. No!" she stamps her foot and shakes her head wildly, as if to shake off any remnants of the deceitful emotions that took over for a moment. "You're not Daniel! Daniel's - gone. Forever."

It's her eyes that betray her; it's the eyes that tell of her pain under all the anger. Just speaking the words out loud still tears her soul apart.

"I know that's what it looks like, but-"

"He's gone!" she repeats in a mad rage, with tears welling up in her eyes. She's been telling herself that for ages, since he'd died in her arms, and then after the unsuccessful attempt at reviving him, and then again at the stables, where she'd had to lose him a third time. No one, no one can ever understand how hard it has been for her, and now someone's trying to shake her, to take all the ground she has managed to regain at the cost of much pain and suffering, from beneath her feet again.

"Regina...please." The way he speaks her name makes her heart shatter into pieces. "Please, listen to me. I can prove it's really me."

The urgency with which he tells the obvious lie only makes it more infuriating.

"How," she croaks with what remnants of hostility she can muster. Her voice is betraying her now, too, it threatens to break with every syllable. She cannot give in to false hope again, she cannot. Another disappointment would be too much to bear. Another moment of utter devastation would break her.

"By telling you something only the two of us know. No one else. Only you and me, Regina."

Regina looks up at him with a frown, her eyelashes heavy with the tears she's trying so hard to fight back. She swallows, but says nothing. _He speaks my name just like Daniel used to - as if it were something precious, a treasured, cherished word. He's looking at me just like Daniel would. No one else has ever looked at me quite like that. How could anyone fake this?_

_This is a trick_, her brain tells her urgently. _Daniel is dead. Nothing can bring him back, ever. Dead is dead_. Yet she waits for his words, fighting with all her might to keep the thrashing little feathery ball of hope in the steel claws of common sense.

"Remember how we met?" he says quietly. "We were children. I was tending to your mother's horses in the inn's stables while she was considering my father for the post of groom, and you ran in crying, because the village children had been bullying you at a game of blind man's buff. You refused to admit you'd come to hide," he smiles fondly, "and I gave you a handkerchief of sorts. You told me you had no friends, and I told you I would be your friend. Have you ever told anyone that story?"

She hasn't.

_Oh my…could this be?_ She's scared now, so terrified she wants to back away from him, but her legs refuse to move because her heart is pulling her forward instead, towards him. Her feverish mind spits out a memory she grasps at.

"Daniel brought me a flower when I was ill once," she says with a shred of make-believe confidence, while her insides quiver, "because of a little story we had shared. What flower was it?"

The question she has hoped - or has she? - would deter him puts a smile on his face instead.

"It was a yellow yarrow, also known as sneezeweed. But a few people knew that apart from us. What they didn't know, however, is why this flower."

"Tell me," she challenges, her eyes pleading.

He steps closer to her - so close they're almost touching. She doesn't retreat.

"Because," he says softly, with a kindness in his eyes that makes her want to cry, "it would make the dragon sneeze, and his sneeze would free you from its belly. The dragon was supposed to belch, but there's no such thing as belchweed, so I had to make do with sneezing. It worked. You woke," he whispers, and strokes her cheek so gently he's barely touching her.

A mighty sob breaks from deep down in her chest.

"Daniel," she cries as she collapses into his arms. "Daniel," she mumbles into his chest in between heaving sobs. He holds her close, strokes her back, and places little kisses all over the top of her head. A tear trickles down his face as well, and another one, and then they're both crying.

"For a moment there I thought I might have lost you," he whispers into her hair. She clings to him even harder, shaking with each new sob - they come one after the other, devastating yet freeing, and unstoppable. "I'm here, Regina. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere this time."

The darkness around them is complete, and only kept at bay by what little light escapes from inside the house. Daniel feels Regina shiver against him. Night has fallen, and she's only wearing a thin dress. He pulls her closer, wraps his arms around her tighter.

"Shall we go inside? You're shivering."

He makes to move towards the door, but she buries her fingers into his arm and back in a desperate attempt to hold on to him, afraid to let go even for a moment.

"It's alright. I'm coming, too. Just walk with me, alright?" She mumbles something unintelligible into his shirt. "Regina. Look at me." She turns her tear-stained face towards him, and feels his eyes caress her. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just let's go inside. I don't wanna have to look for another sneezeweed any time soon."

A tearful little smile appears on her face at this. Eventually, she nods. Clumsily, and ever keeping the embrace, they move inside together, and Daniel closes the door behind them.


	3. Where Lost Souls Go

_Author's Note: Yay, this finally made it up here, too. I have a lot going on these days and this story is a handful, but I hope while the updates are not as frequent as I'd like them to be, the length of the chapters will compensate for that. This one has quite a bit of fluff – enjoy it while you can, because angst is never too far away… ;)_

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Where Lost Souls Go**_

They don't get any further than the hall. They stand there, entwined in a hug, as shadows and light cast by the fire in the neighbouring room dance across all surfaces: the floor, the walls, the ornate mirror. Regina's shoulders gradually stop shaking, and her sobs become rarer and less violent. She sniffs and looks up at him. Daniel moves his hands up to her face, creating a gentle frame around it. Regina gives a small dry sob accompanied by a crooked smile.

"Daniel," she whispers, and places her hands over his. "Daniel." She cannot seem to say his name often enough - just the sound of it is enough to make her heart fill with joy. Smiling, he plants a kiss on her forehead. A small sigh escapes her. Heavens, how she missed this - didn't believe she could ever have this again.

It's almost too good to be true.

She tilts her head slightly and examines each nook and crevice of his face, finding every single one perfectly familiar. She lets her gaze linger on his lips for a moment, then looks coyly into his eyes. His lips curl into a knowing smile. Holding each other's look, Daniel leans closer, and closer, and closer - slowly, ever so slowly; and Regina follows to meet him. At barely a breadth of hair away, he stops, and Regina draws a sharp little breath. _Oh so cruel, _her longing cries in protest. A playful little grin plays on his lips. Their eyes remain locked, and there's a craving in his to match her own. His nose rubs against hers gently, and this time she chuckles. His arm curls around her waist and he pulls her closer, running his other hand up her back. She shivers at the tickling sensation, and grabs a handful of his shirt. Their lips are close…closer… And when they finally meet with gentle intensity, Regina lets out a soft whimper, and her knees feel far too weak, and the entire world begins to spin.

The world has never felt so right. Time stops.

When they break apart at long last, they're both slightly out of breath.

"It's really you," she whispers with her eyes closed, breathing in his scent.

"It's really me," he confirms quietly, and brushes a strand of hair from her face.

Her eyelashes flutter as she shakes herself awake form the dreamy haze she enjoys so much being wrapped in. The burning question won't leave her alone.

"But - how?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Daniel says, stroking her cheek. "Some things I know, some things I assume, and some things I have no idea about."He pauses, gives her a searching gaze, and for a moment she considers rearranging her face, but knows it's probably too late, and with him, it doesn't even matter. "You look worried."

Of course he sees. "I- it's just…"This is such a hard topic, and she's never spoken about it to anyone, except for Henry, but that was only once and very briefly, too. "I tried to bring you back once, and I failed."The guilt is completely unnecessary this time, because… "Because dead is dead," she repeats the words she'd heard long ago, and has repeated to herself countless times in an effort to finally let go, to move on. "Or perhaps it isn't after all. I don't know what to think anymore."

"I don't now about that..." Daniel says softly. His face grows more serious, and panic bubbles inside her for a moment. She's being stupid, though, to overreact so - but who could blame her under the circumstances? Daniel, sensing her tension, squeezes her hand before finishing. "But the thing is, I was never dead to begin with."

"What?" she stares at him. "But that's impossible! I saw it with my own eyes, I…" Her voice trails off as she tries to process this entirely unexpected piece of information, but her brain seems to have turned into mush for the moment.

"I know," he nods. "Let me explain, alright?" He takes both of her hands into his and kisses the tips of her fingers. It's been so long since anyone had done this - these little things that meant so much.

Regina leads him across the house into the fire-lit room. The flames crackle merrily and throw off a bunch of sparks as she closes the door. Taking him by the other hand as well, she pulls him down on the sofa beside her.

"You…died, didn't you?" she blurts out, entirely befuddled.

To her astonishment, he shakes his head. "No. But you had no way of knowing that," he hurries to add.

"I- I don't understand." None of this makes sense - how could he not have died when she's seen it happen -and more than once? "Daniel, I saw it," she reasons. "My mother…she-" _Come on, just say it_. "She-"

"Ripped my heart out," he finishes for her and strokes the back of her hand with his thumb. "Yes."

Regina swallows and nods. Why is it still so hard to talk about after all this time?

"And she _crushed_ it." Her voice hitched as she made herself say it. "I don't see how you could possibly have survived such a thing - when your heart is crushed, that's it, you…die."

"I assume you do," he agrees sadly, only adding to her utter bafflement.

"So how-?"

"It wasn't my heart she crushed."

This simply makes Regina's jaw drop.

"She ripped it out of your chest," she whispers. "How was it not your heart then?"

"It wasn't the first time I had a heart ripped out of my chest." Everything's becoming hazier and hazier as he speaks, and Regina closes her eyes for a moment in an attempt to hold her thoughts together. "No, wait," Daniel sighs, "perhaps that's not the best way to explain…" His eyes wander a bit as he collects his thoughts. "Your mother," he begins, and watches her warily as he continues, "was at the stables after you left to get your things, but before you returned."

"She only came afterwards," Regina objects. Instead of any clarifications, her head is only growing heavier and heavier.

Daniel shakes his head.

"She caught me right in the middle of the preparations, and-" Daniel hesitates, and the reflection of the horrid moment etched in his face brings about a stab of pain in Regina's chest, "well, she did what you saw her do later - took my heart."

"But that's impossible, you did have a heart later when we were all there!" She remembers it well - too well. She cannot possibly be mistaken about this.

"Yes, I did, but it wasn't mine." The patience with which he explains, and the way he rubs her hand softly to comfort her stun her at a time that is so clearly traumatic for him - even in such a moment, he thinks about her. Regina's eyes fill with tears - after such a long time, being cared for again is almost too overbearing. "She gave me back someone else's heart."

"Wh-what?"

"I didn't know this at the time. I didn't even remember having had it taken the first time, much less that I'd been given someone else's instead. I suppose there must have been some memory modification."

Regina nods. "I know that spell," she says without thinking. "But that doesn't explain…" She closes her eyes for a moment, holding on to her trail of thoughts amid the torrent of thoughts and emotions vying for dominance. "Let's assume she took your heart between our agreement to run and the actual attempt, and gave you another one instead. How does that explain your - 'death'? If she had crushed someone else's heart, nothing should have happened to you whatsoever."

"That's the part I don't quite understand," he sighs. "Perhaps someone better-versed in magic would know how this…this heart matter works. I mean, whatever happens when a heart is out of the body but not crushed."

"Nothing, if you so choose. Anything, if you so want. You can control a person when you're in possession of their heart. Mostly, they wouldn't even know. Sometimes, it seems to mess up their emotional capacities and they realise something's wrong, but there's very little they can do about it." The words come out automatically, them being more of a string of thoughts spoken aloud unawares. Daniel stares at her searchingly, with a hint of suspicion in his eye, which he seems to dismiss quickly. Regina shrinks back in alarm anyway - she might have given away too much. "Or so they say," she adds hastily, shrugging it off.

"This controlling thing - can one also inflict pain?" The question is carefully phrased, and she finds no accusation in his intent look. Anxious to the point of breaking, Regina takes a while before she answers with a mere nod. She holds her breath - will Daniel call her out on knowing so much about dark magic?

To her relief, Daniel doesn't pursue the issue. He only seems interested in working out the answers he's been trying to give her for the time being.

"It makes sense," he says thoughtfully. "I felt the agony, I was sure I was dying at that moment." He winces as he speaks, and Regina's heart sinks as she reaches out to him. "Someone must have had my actual heart," he muses with regained calm as their fingers entwine, "to give the illusion of me really dying."

"But who? Why?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. As I said, I remember none of it."

"Then how do you know? You said you had no memory of…her," she just cannot bring herself to say 'my mother' in this context, "taking your heart or replacing it."

"Right. Well, I didn't have the memory then. It all came back later. I can only guess why."

"What's your guess?"

"I'll get to it later." He held her hand in both of his and his eyes bore into hers, imploring her to listen. " The point is, Regina, I didn't die then. I didn't. Despite what you saw." His voice softens, and his eyes on her face feel as if they were caressing her. "I'm so sorry, Regina. It must have been terrible for you."

She bows her head at his words. The memory is still very much alive in her mind; alive and dauntinglypainful. There are some wounds that never seem to heal, no matter how much time has passed. He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it. Regina scoots closer to him and leans against his shoulder - she needs all the strength she can gain form his presence to say what she needs to say.

"I cried over your body until she wrenched me away, and when they thought they were laying you in the ground I sneaked you out without anyone knowing. I just couldn't part with you, Daniel, I couldn't. The thought of your body wasting away in the cold ground…I-" She stutters and buries her face into his shoulder just as he puts an arm around her and pulls her to him. "I cast a spell," she mumbles. "A preservation spell." This time she's too upset to remember not to reveal more of her experience with magic than absolutely necessary.

"You did?" he says, and pulls away from her ever so slightly.

Fear steals its way into her heart - is this it, will he cast her away because of this? She refuses to meet his eyes, she cannot handle the disappointment or disgust she fears to meet there. Perhaps he feels her tense in his arms, or perhaps another truth just dawns on him that shakes his entire being and makes him forget about feats of magic she should know nothing about. His fingers tickles under her chin as he coaxes her head up to look at him.

"Oh Regina…you kept me with you all those years?"

"Of course," she croaks. "Of course I did. I kept you with me in that land and this. Until Whale brought you back."

"Whale?"

"It's just a name, it doesn't matter. So he gave you a heart, and you awoke… This business of Whale's is something I don't understand. But it did wake you. Except…it wasn't really you, was it? I mean, it was, and it wasn't." Nothing makes sense still, and it all hurts so much even now that it seems to be over and well again. Daniel's eyes widen at her sight - she must look poorly, for he throws both arms around her this time, and sh curled up in his embrace as if it were an almighty sanctuary to protect her from harm.

"It was, and it wasn't," he confirms gently. "It was me for only a couple of rare moments. I think you know which…" he smiles at her, and she returns the smile. Those moments hurt as well, but they're precious, too - oh so precious. She should thank Whale for those at least, really… Daniel's voice brings her back to the present. "You called that forth, Regina. I wasn't in control - as you said, I have no idea what that man Whale did, but it was all wrong, it was…as if I had been just a vessel driven by something else against my own will, and the torture was both mental and physical. I couldn't revert it. Except when you got through to me." The implication erases some of the pain from her heart, and the shadow of those dreadful memories from his.

Words echo in her mind, uttered a while ago, but so clearly etched in her brain she would never forget the smallest tremble in Daniel's voice when he spoke those three small yet enormous words.

"You told me to love again," she frowns. "You knew you weren't dead, or didn't you? Perhaps that's what you should have told me instead. Maybe we could have brought you back earlier." Why didn't he say? He must have wanted to come back - he did now.

"I think not," Daniel says as he strokes her back. "I'm afraid it's not quite so simple. I didn't think I could be brought back at all. I had lost you, and you me. I wanted happiness for you, Regina." His voice catches, but his lips curve into a smile, and there's no doubt he means every word he says, no matter how hard it it for him. "I wanted you to move on."

"Well, now you're lucky I haven't, right?" The smallest grain of irritation creeps into her voice, but it's so small there's no need ot acknowledge it, because her heart swells with happiness.

Daniel, however, remains serious. "Have you even at least tried?"

"I think so…in a way," she hesitates. It was so unbearably difficult to acknowledge he was gone forever. "I thought about your words a lot. But I haven't gotten over you yet. You should be happy about that, you know," she teases with teary eyes.

Daniel grins. "I know. I was worried on the way here, if you must know." His eyes glisten as he continues. "If you had moved on, found someone else - I wouldn't have wanted to get in the way of that."

He cannot possibly think there's someone else. There has never really been anyone else.

"You aren't getting in the way of anything."

"Well…I'm a lucky man." Daniel shifts on the sofa and wraps an arm around her waist.

Regina leans into his embrace. "We're both lucky."

Neither speaks for a while, until ultimately Daniel breaks the silence.

"Regina…after I said those words to you, and pleaded to end my suffering, you did something. I don't know what it was, but it worked. It sent me someplace else."

"It was a vanishing spell," she says quietly. She's treading on dangerous ground again; she's confronted once again with the devastating dilemma and the heartache of that moment, and her decision. "It was the gentlest way I could think of. Did I hurt you?" she asks in alarm. That's the one thing she never wanted - for him to suffer.

"No!" he says quickly. "No, on the contrary, it stopped the agony. You did what I asked, and I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you. To see me go again… I saw it in your face, Regina. The shock, the joy, the hope, the doubts, the fear - everything. I saw it all again tonight," he finishes quietly, and strokes her cheek. "But tonight it ends well."

Regina smiles into his shirt, but new and new thoughts keep invading her newly found happiness.

"You said it sent you someplace else," she mumbles. "Yet you're here. In your body. The one I thought I'd made disappear."

"So I was supposed to just…dissolve?"

"That's what I thought at the time. Apparently I was wrong."

"I don't have an explanation. I just know my body ended up somewhere, and my soul someplace else."

"That hadn't been the case before?"

"No, I had only been missing a heart, but body and soul had been intact."

"What happens to a soul when it's separated from the body? Does it…dream?"Regina asks uncomfortably. Can she have inadvertently subjected Daniel to an agony similar to that invoked by a Sleeping Curse?

Daniel surveys her with puzzlement. "Not quite. Under that preservation spell, though - that sounds more like it. I'd had dreams, memories, and thoughts; and, basically, had functioned in a world within my own head, so to say."

"But you weren't plagued with dreams of your regrets, were you?" She needs to make sure, for the thought of having caused him harm when she had meant none is too much to bear.

"No, nothing like that. At least no more than the average dreaming would subject you to. I had no such experience as you describe after the vanishing spell, either," he rushes to say, and the agony of doubt vanish. "The soul just…" he searches for a word with a frustrated frown. "It floated. In between worlds, I guess. The void between the worlds is filled with meadows of asphodel," he says with a far-away look, "where lost souls wander, and dead woods, in which others hide and mourn the lives they left behind. Time ceases to exist, or its passing is just as insignificant. The soul needs a body to unite with to exist the way it's supposed to, to judge by my experience."

"That realm - whatever it is - sounds dreadful." Regina runs a hand through his hair and lets it rest on his cheek.

"I'd go with depressing. But I lived, and now I'm here, soul and all." He presses her palm to his lips.

She beams at him. "You are," she says under her breath. "Although I still don't see how your heart, body, and soul got back into one." She pulls back from him all of a sudden, a horrible idea bursting her happy bubble, and her eyes dart to his chest. "Your heart."

He catches on immediately. "I know I have it," he tries to calm her.

"How?"

"Mainly because it's been trying to break out of my chest the entire day at the thought of you," he grins.

She isn't pacified, however, and words tumble out of her mouth rapidly.

"Daniel, this is important. Your heart must be out there somewhere, but if it ends up in the wrong hands… You must have it back. I just don't know how-"

"Regina, I do. I just know. I know how a strange heart feels - not the same as my own. Here, give me your hand." He takes it into his own and moves to place it on his chest where the heart should be. Seeing what he's about to do, she snatches her hand away with alarm.

"What's the matter?" he asks, clearly astonished by her seemingly irrational reaction.

She feels foolish about her reaction, and yet cannot make the terror disperse. What if it's not there at all? What if it is, only it's not truly Daniel's?

Yet she knows deep down that her true, even greater fear is caused by something else - she probably has a way of finding out just what sort of heart this is. The outcome frightens her, but the process frightens her more: what does she tell Daniel? That she has ripped out countless hearts herself and is therefore most likely in the position to be a good judge of whether the one in his chest is truly his? She could never rip out Daniel's heart, ever.

She could, however, just place her hand exactly where he wanted her to and feel its beat - feel if it's there, and if it's his. Daniel need never know there's magic involved.

With her mind still torn between decisions, she moves closer to him again, and looks him in the eyes intently. Concern, she reads; confusion; more concern.

"I'm fine," she says. "I'm sorry, that was silly of me." And just as she speaks, she rests her hand on his heart. Daniel smiles and presses it down lightly with his own. She feels it at once. The hearts beats a steady rhythm, thump-thumping as Daniel squeezes her hand. There's no doubt that he has a heart beating in his chest. But is it really his?

Regina takes a deep breath, still torn between two fears that both loom above her, and are really just a single fear: that of losing him. Does it matter if it happens because of her ties with darkness, or because the heart might someday turn out to be a deception? Just as she tries to stomach the gnawing doubts, she notices the heart pounding with increased gusto, and looks up at Daniel for an explanation.

The genuine joy behind his smile startles her; when he speaks, the words bring tears to her eyes. "See? It responds to you. It _knows_ you."

And when the tears start streaming down her face, she knows: she cannot use magic on Daniel, no matter how much she wants to be absolutely sure. Besides, could magic really make her any more certain than what has just happened? Yet she cannot let go, for her whole being still yearns for a definite confirmation, and the sheer shame of that rattles her whole being. Magic would have been unnecessary once. She'd have known. For the Regina she used to be, this would have been enough. Without even realising it, she's now also crying over that Regina, longing to be that Regina - and understanding that, perhaps if she shuns the shortcut via magic now, she will have acted like that Regina, and thereby be closer to her once again.

As she eventually starts to calm down, she becomes aware of Daniel's arm around her and his hand slowly tracing patterns across her back. She sniffs and raises her head with a tearful smile.

"Do you believe me now?" he asks in a tone overflowing with kindness. She simply nods. "Alright. Then perhaps we can finish my story now, so that we can then move on to yours. You asked how the three came together as me again - well, I can tell you what I felt and what I guessed, but that's little enough." Regina forces herself to listen intently in hopes of filling the blanks. "The asphodel fields started to fade out, as if the colour was being washed out of a painting. And then I realised it wasn't them, it was me. Before I knew it, I was being hauled over some sort of a dark tunnel, and, well, found myself like this. I felt whole for the first time in ages. The heart was there, too - it was the first thing I checked when I materialised at the stables."

"The stables?" She repeats. It seems hopeless with so little information to go on.

"Yes. The place where my body and soul had last been united. The place I'd last seen you." She doesn't miss the emphasis places on the latter, and pulls him close by the scruff of his jacket.

The kiss runs long and deep.

* * *

"How did you find me?" she asks a good while later with her forehead pressed to his.

"I…asked," he whispers dramatically, making her chuckle. "I'd been told everyone knew you, and indeed, not one person failed to help me out when I asked for instructions." A little frown crosses her face at that. "What I hadn't been told, though," he continues, pulling back to look her in the face properly, "is what this place is."

"Well, had you asked," she replies with a cheeky glint in her eye, "I'm sure they would have told you that as well. Everyone knows this is Storybrooke, after all."

"Storybrooke? How poetic," he grins at her tease. "But they probably wouldn't have been able to tell me how you'd gotten here, or what your life has been like since my 'death', would they? I think I'll just leave that question to you."

Regina's eyes slip to her hands and she squirms uncomfortably. "Perhaps we can leave this one for later." Her tone bears no hostility, but it has unmistakable finality to it.

"As you wish," he concedes. His forehead creases with thoughts about what it could possibly be behind that strained face. Well, surely he'll find out in time. "I have another question." A ton of question would be closer, in fact, but first things first. "How about the present? Do you live alone? I saw a bunch of people leaving when I arrived."

"You did?" Her eyes return to him now, and a smile plays on her lips. "Well, you'd seen the boy before, although the occasion hadn't been exactly fortunate." Daniel racks his brain - the boy did look familiar, but even now he cannot make the connection. Regina comes to his aid. "In the stables?" she prods. "Not today, the time before. But that was a 'not you' moment."

A memory stirs at her words, albeit rather hazy and unclear, of a dark-haired boy tending a horse, a cry, and flight. He nods in recognition. "I think I remember a little. Who is he?"

Regina's face lights up. It couldn't be more clear this is something she relishes in talking about - it's almost as if she'd been longing for that question to be asked. "His name's Henry. He's my son."

A son. It seems Regina's life has changed in at least one major way. The way she says those words - full of love and gentleness - makes him realise something: whether Regina has been involved in a romantic relationship since him or not, love hasn't been completely absent from her life. There's so much of it in just these few simple words, he can tell her heart's overflowing with it.

"You named him after your father," he notes, drinking in her face - there's something special about the way it glows with love and happiness at the mention of the boy.

"Yes," she says, and her smile wavers a little.

Daniel has an inkling he won't be meeting Henry Senior ever again. It will be better to steer the conversation back to the younger Henry - after all, he's the present and the future, and Regina's pride and joy.

"Where's Henry now? Is he staying over with friends?"

"I guess you could put it that way." A small smirk goes a long way, and this one suggests there's quite a bit behind it that he might not yet understand. Whatever it is, though, it's something Regina's been contending with. "The people he left with are his biological parents," she says neutrally - always a sign something is off. "I adopted Henry twelve years ago."

"And yet they remained in his life all this time?"

"Emma popped up at my doorstep about two years ago. Henry had been looking for her," Regina hesitates, perhaps on the verge of saying more, and eventually settling for: "…and found her, too. She and I have our share of fights behind us, and we've been trying to strike a friendlier tone for Henry's sake lately. Neal appeared just a few months ago. It's…it's complicated."

"So you share him now?" he probes gently, all the while examining her reaction.

"Yes," she replies and a sigh escapes her before she can stop it. "He wants all of his family in his life. So as long as this arrangement makes him happy…" she trails off.

"But it doesn't make you happy." It's no question; it's a statement of fact. Regina eyes him carefully for a second, and gives him a sad little smile.

"It's that obvious, isn't it?" She wrings her hands, a scared expression settling on her face, and expression of almost guilt. "I want him to be happy," she adds quickly. "I just- I just miss him so much."

Daniel says not another word, only squeezes her hand. Regina leans against his shoulder. "He'll be back in a few days," she mutters.

"I can't wait to meet him. Well, I hope this one will surpass our previous encounter."

Regina chuckles. "I'm almost positive."

An unexpected low growling sound makes them exchange clueless looks.

"Was that you?" Regina smirks after a split second.

"Why, now that you say so, it might well have been," Daniel says, fighting to keep a straight face while his voice actually rings with laughter. "I haven't felt hungry in…well, whatever time has passed since I 'died'. Strange how something so ordinary can make a man feel so happy and alive again."

Regina tilts her head at the confession.

"Let's feed you then," she rises and pulls him by the hand towards the door. "I'll have you try my lasagna. I don't mean to boast, but I make the best lasagna."

"So you cook now? I'll try it, even though I have no idea what it is."

On the way to the kitchen, Daniel actually looks around and, for the first time since his arrival, takes in a little something other than Regina, too. The fireplace at least is something he recognises from their world. Everything else is either completely unfamiliar, or to some degree a modification of something he used to know. The kitchen itself comes as the biggest shock, though.

"I have a feeling there's a lot to learn about this new land," he notes as he runs a finger over the smooth counter top. Everything else, especially the shiny appliances, looks potentially dangerous to a stranger.

"Oh, there are a few things," she says over her shoulder as she puts the lasagna in the microwave to warm. Daniel watches with fascination as the strange device beeps and lights up, and the plate inside begins to spin slowly to a low humming sound. "I might be persuaded to teach you," Regina teases and puts her arms around his neck. "It's worked before, hasn't it?" Her words conjure an image of a boy and girl bent over books full of scribbles, reciting tongue twisters on horseback, or wandering in forests collecting samples of leaves and flowers. Daniel smiles and kisses her softly, making her giggle a little. "That, for instance, is called a microwave, and it will make sure your lasagna is nice and warm."

"Which reminds me I still haven't been told what this lasagna is. My teacher's been neglecting my education, I think."

"Your teacher's been told before that in some cases experiencing something is worth a thousand words. You shall see for yourself shortly." She tilts her head coyly and presses herself against him. He responds by giving her a tight squeeze and a long, tender kiss.

By the time the microwave announces itself again, they're so engulfed by it that it takes a while for them to pull apart. His first mouthful has Regina in a strange state of impatience and anticipation.

"So?" she asks with the fork barely having reached his mouth. Daniel takes his time, chews, and swallows before he responds with a hint of amusement and a wholly sincere compliment: "I commend the cook."

It seems to make her irrationally happy, which in turn makes his heart swell.

Having wolfed down the late dinner, Daniel offers to wash up, only to be told by an amused Regina about another ingenious device that does the dishes for you.

"I like this world. Doesn't it make you a bit lazy though?"he smirks.

"Hm, I don't know. At this hour, I reserve for myself the right to be lazy."

"You do look tired," he observes after a closer look. "Perhaps it's time for a nap."

"I don't want to sleep just yet," she says earnestly, touching his face with a caress.

"Maybe I do," he says half-jokingly. She remains serious though. "How about this," Daniel takes her by the hand. "It's been a tough day for both of us. We'll simply lie down and rest a little."

"Together?" At this particular moment more than ever, she looks just like a child again, the Regina he remembers from years ago, so innocent and so vulnerable.

"Together."

* * *

There's no light on in the bedroom, and she doesn't bother changing that. Daniel's hand is warm against hers, and she never notices the chilly night air sneaking in through the window left ajar. It's warm all around, and the realisation that the warmth is not coming without but emanates from within her would probably seem wondrous and incredible - if Regina noticed at all. As it is, though, she doesn't - she couldn't care less to examine her feelings right now. All she wants is to bask in the gloriousness that seems out of this world.

Never letting Daniel out of sight, se pulls back the sheets and climbs in, waiting for him to make himself comfortable first. It's been so long since they'd gone to sleep like this, and there'd been so few occasions even then. She watches him fondly in the near-dark as he squirms a little on the soft pillow, as if this were something new, or something he has long forgotten the feel of. Eventually he holds out a hand for hers, and she crawls closer and lies down right next to him, leaving not a hair's width between him and her. Daniel pulls the sheets over them and makes sure Regina is properly tucked in. With a blissful sigh, she nestles in the bend of his arm and rests her head against his chest. The peaceful beating of his heart against her ear is the sweetest music she's ever heard.

"Daniel," she whispers, only for the sheer pleasure of speaking his name.

"Regina," he says softly in reply.

A fleeting sensation on the top of her head tells of a gentle kiss. She strokes his arm wrapped around her. He's here. Right here.

"Now just close your eyes," he whispers in her ear, playing with her hair.

"I know I won't fall asleep," she mumbles back, "because I'm just too happy to." But she closes her eyes all the same.

For the first time in years, Regina finally feels safe.

Within a few short minutes, Daniel smiles at the change in the pace of her peaceful breathing, and smiles to himself before he, too, closes his eyes for sleep.


End file.
